As the fall faded into unforgiving winter, Sherlock Holmes was finding his world to be a strange and unfamiliar place. His consulting business was thriving thanks to his flat mate, friend and blogger John Watson. The man who treated him as average as anyone else ever had and guided him through the difficulties of human interaction while providing excellent back up on cases. Mycroft had him on the Royals beck and call. A dominatrix was attempting to seduce him and he was being driven insane by the fact that the once adoring Molly had found not only a relationship, a serious one too. Joy.
Attempts at fighting the changes had been made. He'd attempted to drive John off. Shown up at Buckingham Place in no more than his bed sheet, been drugged by Irene when he let his guard down and Molly... Well she tried to act as though things were normal whenever he sought out his chair, cup and cat at her place. But each time he arrived it wasn't the same comfort it had once been.
In the short, final days of the year he stopped going there at all. He couldn't place why he felt so much more ennui when he thought of the tiny flat and it's occupants and how he no longer felt as welcome as he once did. He knew why it was different. There was another in his place. Another man who, much as he was loathed to admit could be capable of making Molly happy. One who was often there when he arrived and staying after he left. They couldn't talk with Max around and they stopped speaking of the Ideal at all.
The last time he'd gone by her flat was two weeks before Christmas though her male companion had been mercifully absent.
Sherlock had came in to her one evening after her shift and found it lit only by fairy lights. She had soft holiday music playing and a pot of soup going. She welcomed him in happily and offered him a bowl. He excepted and they settled in at her kitchen table and ate quietly. Every now and then Molly looked up and their eyes would catch. Molly finally laughed. " This is terrible. We can speak you know."
Sherlock allowed his lips to turn up. "It's been a while since I've gotten you alone. Perhaps I forgot the social pattern I'm supposed to be following. "
"Well then shall I remind you? You are supposed to ask me how I've been and what I've been up to. You politely pretend to listen and nod at every third thing I say. Then I shall ask you how you've been and you tell me. " She said with ease. Amusement filled her eyes.
Holding her eyes he asked. "How are you Molly?"
"Very well thank you. I'm enjoying the lovely Christmas season. We had our department Christmas party last night. Jones drank till he vomited on Stanford. I can't wait till he comes back from holiday to tease him about it. The work itself has been manageable. No terribly interesting cases which is why I'm sure we haven't seen you. How about you?"
He studied her. "Oh the same. John and I have been on some boring theft cases and one mildly interesting disappearance. But I'm sure you read about that." She nodded. Then stood to take their bowels to the kitchen.
"Have any plans for Christmas? Will you be going home to your parents?"
"Not if I can help it. I suppose it will be Mrs Hudson and I. John is abandoning London to go pretend to be happy with his sister." He said walking to his chair, slipping his shoes off and sitting down. Toby appeared as if by and magic and curled up in his lap. "Miss me little fellow?" He whispers quietly to the feline. An answering purr assured him that he hadn't lost the cats affection at least.
"What's Matt doing this evening? I trust nothing has happened between you two. " He called out striving to keep a bitter tint out of his voice. He failed.
"It's Max and you know it Sherlock." She said handing him a mug. "And he is out with Jennings fighting the crowds while Jennings shops for his kids."
"He seems to be spending a good deal of time here."
Molly looked at Sherlock with an expression that read 'as do you ' but said not a word.
"You two are getting closer after all." He said again trying to find what definition Max and Molly had.
"We're not dating exactly, but we're not well not dating either. It's a bit to soon after he and Angela. " Molly finally said with a slight tone of nervousness.
Sherlock hummed noncommittally and watched Molly settling in on the couch changing the subject. "So how goes the case with your Ideal?"
He didn't want to talk about that. " She seems to know just when I've gotten her out of my head and uses that moment to get my focus back to her." He finally answered.
"Have you asked her out yet?" Sherlock noticed her grab a decorative pillow and bring it to her lap playing with the fringe. His eyes never left her fingers as they traced the floral pattern.
"Why would I do that?" He asked a bit confused.
"To get to know her better. Have dinner with her. See how you too get along. What's the worst that can happen?" She said plainly.
Sherlock thought over the texts to 'have dinner.' Alot could happen actually.
"No, I don't think I can do that. Not yet." He finally answered.
"Oh come on Sherlock. You just managed to eat a meal with me, surely you could manage to eat with a beautiful, alluring and intelligent woman." She was staring at the pillow still. Sherlock wondered if she knew that she had just described herself as well as Irene Adler.
"Perhaps. But I don't think it's dinner that she implying." He watched as the realization hit her.
"Oh! Oh... well that's... That a bit forward really. " She said shock and embarrassment on her face.
Sherlock watched her debate to ask the next question and decided to ask it for her. "You are wondering why I'm still not taking her up on the offer?"
Molly nodded a bit ashamed that he'd known her thoughts and also relieved to have the question out there as well. Sherlock also noted that her fingers had transitioned from tracing to now grabbing the pillows edge hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
"I don't know why I haven't. I can only think that I'm waiting for her situation I reach, you'll forgive the phrase 'climax' and then... Perhaps." He admitted. Did he really intend to go that route with Irene? He couldn't deny that he did feel attracted to her.
"That sounds- reasonable." Molly finally decided. "It's just a matter of time and then, you'll have the perfect woman. Sherlock Holmes will be off the market." Ah, the discomfortable blush. She hated saying it. As much as he hatted hearing it.
"I was never on some eligible market to begin with. And it won't be like that with Irene. So don't go planning what to wear to my wedding just yet Molly. " Anger and annoyance surged within him.
"You mean you'd just want to.. To 'have dinner' and that be it? That's your end game with this perfect creature whose fascinated you? I never thought you that sort Sherlock. I never thought you where like-" Molly flashed with annoyance as well but quickly clamped her mouth shut when she almost said his name.
Jim. Moriarty. The man who had feigned interest and used her to get to him. Damn it.
"You know it's not the same." He challenged.
"Only because you both seem to understand the rules." She stood up and took his mug from him and walked at record speed to her kitchen. "You know maybe you should consider more. I'm sure the two of you would be just lovely together. It sounds like you deserve one another."
Sherlock stood to follow her. "Molly."
"I'm going to bed. Make yourself comfortable, or leave. Just do what you want if that makes you happy. That's all your looking for anyways." She spoke in a rush.
Sherlock strode over to her before she could make it in her door. He grabbed her arm and spun her back around till she faced him. Her gaze avoided his though, looking far past his shoulder at the Christmas tree. "Molly." He repeated.
Her deep brown eyes finally met his, the unshed tears reflecting the light of the room back to him. It was an oddly beautiful sight. Focusing in them he spoke.
"I'm not going to use her like Jim did you. In fact I think Irene is far more likely to be the one who'll use me and toss me aside when the next good offer comes along." Admitting the thought that had plagued him bitterly for weeks and feeling far too vulnerable for his liking he let Molly go and went back to slip on his shoes and then grabbed his coat. Pausing at the door, he turned to her one last time looking hard at her broken expression. "I will never be one to settle down Molly. There is no happily ever after in my future. I'm not like John or you, or anyone else who seeks a 'happily ever after'. I don't even really want this distracting dalliance with her. " Sherlock stepped towards Molly once more. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do, but I will see that she is not hurt, not that I'm sure it's even possible what ever our ending may be."
"So you do care for her then." Molly stated in a near whisper. "A great deal. Whatever that means for you."
"In a way perhaps. But I don't want you to imagine me as being some love sick fool. " he spoke calmly.
"I don't think I ever could." She spoke again soft and low her eyes on his mouth.
They were close. Too close and the lights were giving her living room a far to intimate feel.
"Goodnight Molly." And he was gone.